


Duality

by orphan_account



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: College AU, Eventual Romance, M/M, hannibals a researcher, wills a college student who becomes his assistant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-22 06:39:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7424032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe Criminal Justice should have been his major after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Why was he wearing such an elaborate suit? A three piece? In the middle of the year? Will could understand a dress shirt and tie, but not a three-piece suit. His hair was perfect and his entire outfit was immaculate. He stood in front of the class, rearranging papers upon the podium that he stood before.  
It was a large lecture hall, probably seating about 100 students at one time. The room was wide and sloped towards the front of the room, allowing a good view of the podium and whiteboard from anywhere in the room. In way-too-fancy script was “Dr. Hannibal Lecter” written on the white board behind the podium.  
This was his last class of the day, his watch ticked towards 6:00 PM, nearing the beginning of class. He wondered idly why Dr. Lecter would prefer night classes. But, then again, he was the one signing up for them.  
Will slid into a seat relatively near the front of the class, setting his bag down beside him and grabbing his laptop from it. He was early, very early. And Dr. Lecter was fairly interested in this. Will sighed gently, avoiding eye contact for what seemed like the millionth time that day.  
That is, until he hears the sound of the doctor’s voice.  
“You must be new here,” Dr. Lecter comments. “I don’t believe I’ve seen you in this building before.” He has a thick European accent that Will can’t put his finger on.  
“Um, yeah,” Will replies. “Changed my major.”  
“To psychology?” he questions and Will gives a nod, finally looking up from his hands. His eyes are dark, stormy, almost enough to draw him in.  
“Uh… I was criminal justice before,” he explains. Dr. Lecter smiles, warm and friendly, but still the right way to make Will feel uneasy and slightly breathless.  
“And you were drawn to psychology,” Lecter says and Will nods with a sheepish smile.  
“I’m more interested in how the mind works,” he replies softly. Lecter nods and smiles once again.  
“My name is Dr. Hannibal Lecter,” he introduces. “And you are?”  
“Will. Will Graham,” Will says softly. Lecter nods.  
“A pleasure, Mr. Graham,” Lecter replies.  
Students begin to fill the room and Will’s watch beeps on his wrist, notifying him the time of 6:00 PM. Lecter then turns and gazes about the room before returning to his podium. And Will is left with a strange uneasy feeling in his gut.


	2. Chapter 2

He was enigmatic. He had a way of smiling with the softest hint of a smirk that left Will wondering exactly what he was thinking. Whenever they caught eyes during class, he couldn’t help but shift uncomfortably in his seat. But, he still moved to the front of the class. Front row seat. He was early every single day to steal the same position in the lecture hall. He must have amused Dr. Lecter, because he could see that seemingly knowing smile flicker across his face when he would come in for class.  
  
And it’s not that the class was difficult, but Will found himself swamped quickly. Terms to remember, tests to study for, assignments that needed finished. Will was a smart student, but with his mental state, how could he stand to look into others’? But, somehow, he found himself drawn to it all. He wanted more, needed more. So, that’s how he finds himself in Dr. Lecter’s office after class.  
  
The room is small and has two chairs situated in front of the desk. Behind the doctor’s chair is a book shelf packed with leather bound books and psychology text books, as well as some on biology and sociology. The desk of mahogany, wood grain swirling in patterns Will’s eyes can’t trace. A coat rack stands in the corner, holding what he assumes is the doctor’s coat.  
  
Lecter was writing in a leather bound notepad, his hand sure and steady. He doesn’t look up when Will walks in, but he knows that he’s been noticed by the smile that finds its way to his face. He finishes what he was writing and closes the notebook, brown eyes flickering up to meet Will’s.  
  
“Hello, Mr. Graham. May I assist you?” he questions. Will’s lips pull into an uneasy smile and he takes a seat in the small chair across from Dr. Lecter’s desk.  
  
He doesn’t know why he’s doing this and an almost panic sets into his chest at the thought of asking. He thinks about leaving, but that would be awkward. He wouldn’t be able to face Lecter in class when its time rolled around. But, he doesn’t know how to word his question for a long moment and Dr. Lecter is looking at him with an almost worried look.  
  
“Will?” he repeats and Will straightens up and clears his throat, snapped back from his thoughts.  
  
“I was wondering if you were doing any research projects,” he says finally. Lecter watches him for a moment, but then his smile returns, just a tiny quirk of his lips.  
  
“Yes, actually. Were you interested in assisting me?” the doctor asks. Will swallows hard and then nods. He doesn’t know why his gut is doing summersaults, but he can manage. He feels a pull in his chest. He has to do this.  
  
“Uh… yeah. What’s the study on?” he questions. Dr. Lecter moves and pulls open a drawer behind his desk, pausing a moment to almost silently flip through papers and retrieve a manila envelope and hand it over towards Will.  
  
“I’m researching the correlation between trauma and criminal behaviors,” he says. “I study patients who have committed horrible acts of violence or crime and try to correlate their background to their motivations.” Will stares at the file in his hand. It was of decent weight, so he must have been studying for a while now.  
  
“What would I help with?” Will asks him. Lecter folds his hands on his desk.  
  
“You would assist with psychologically analyzing the patients. You have enough experience in the field of psychology to know your way around a standard psych analyzation,” Lecter tells him. Will just stares at him for a long moment, trying to figure out words and how to string them into sentences.  
  
“I’m not qualified,” he finally says. Lecter shakes his head with the tiniest smiles perking up his lips.  
  
“Mr. Graham, you are more than qualified,” he replies.  
  
“You don’t even know me,” Will shoots back. Lecter almost smirks for a moment.  
  
“I do know that you spend a lot of your time analyzing me,” he says and Will finds heat rise to his cheeks. “I can read facial expressions fairly easily, Mr. Graham. What is it that your intuition says about me?”  
  
Will can hardly breathe and he knows that Lecter can see it on his face. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. But, then again, he would regret not coming here. He would regret not asking if someone else took the position. He swallows hard and shifts in his seat.  
  
“You keep your personal life very hidden,” he begins. “You’re a man of privacy. You talk of your practice frequently in class, so, you’re obviously proud of it, even if you like to hide that. You’re very prideful, in fact, but you attempt to hide it with humility.” Lecter looks interested now, his smile broadening across his face. He’s nervous now, but continues.  
  
“I think you’re not afraid of anything. You hold yourself above everyone else with no fear of others. But, underneath it all, I don’t think you feel that way,” Will says quietly, eyes moving away from the doctor’s for a second. Lecter seems impressed, if he can tell by the way he’s looking at him.  
  
“Mr. Graham, I do believe that we’ve come to an agreement,” Lecter tells him, sounding almost breathless for a split second.  
  
“What is that?” Will asks.  
  
“Meet me in my office tomorrow morning at 10:00 AM,” the doctor tells him, standing up from his seat and taking his coat from the coat rack in the corner of the small room. “You will be my assistant for the day at my practice.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> who knows how frequently im going to update this but ok

His office was small at the university, but his office at the practice seemed like a mansion in comparison. A large bookshelf seemingly covered one of the walls of the room. A small upper level spanned the top of the room, overlooking the lower level with a wooden railing. The furniture was sleek and modern, yet touches of antiquity decorated the room. His desk was aged mahogany with neatly stacked papers and various books adorning its top.

Hannibal Lecter had a sense of style, no doubt, and Will found himself just gazing around for several minutes to take in everything laid out before him. The doctor seemed amused by this, for he chuckled lightly as he took Will’s coat and hung it beside his own. 

Day one wasn’t that bad. Will just sat in with clients that Lecter counseled. Of course, these patients had to agree to his being there first, but soon he was taking notes and jotting down ideas throughout the various meetings that Dr. Lecter had. Many a client walked through his door. Some were victims of tragedy in need of consoling, others were violently mentally ill who came merely for the stabilizing medicine that Dr. Lecter could provide them. All in all, Will found himself intrigued by the practice, as well as the subjects that he was told to study.

At the end of the day, he finds himself buzzing with energy, a need to continue further, but as the doctor begins to put papers away, he realizes that their day had come to a close. He closes up his notebook, fastening it with the rubber band that had come attached to keep the pages in order.

“You seem interested,” the doctor comments, a slight smirk quirking his lips. Will shrugs in response, sliding his things into his bag neatly.

“If this is how the study is going to progress, I think I’m going to enjoy myself,” he states. Dr. Lecter chuckles as he closes a drawer to his desk, making his way around to face Will.

“This was just day one, Mr. Graham. To get you acquainted with the job. Tomorrow we will visit our real clients in this study,” he explains, looking at him with what seems like a challenge in his eyes.

Will finds himself needing to prove himself to the elder man. As if everything he does will leave an impression on him, he must make sure that the doctor views him as worthy. His tongue darts out to wet his lips and he nods. Maybe he should be more unnerved by this strange turn of events, but he isn't. He brushes it off as just a need to show his professor that he isn't like any of the other students in his class. Maybe that's why he's so eager. He pushes the thought aside.

“Again, you will meet me at my office tomorrow. I do hope that this isn’t an inconvenience for your schedule?” he asks. Lecter looks at him with this strange look of amusement, as if he just told a small joke and he’s waiting for Will to get the punch line. Was that a comment about his personal life? He doesn’t linger on the thought.

“No, it’s not an inconvenience,” Will replies easily. He slides the strap of his bag over his shoulder and adjusts his glasses so that they sit more firmly on his nose.

“Good,” Lecter says, leaning back against the edge of his desk. His fingers loosen his tie just a little and he apparently finds interest in Will, because his eyes don’t leave him for quite some time before they move away. It makes the hair stand up on the back of Will’s neck.

How could this man unnerve him with just a simple look? He decides to ignore the thought. Maybe he was just paranoid. There wasn’t anything wrong with the doctor looking at him. When he leaves, he finds a slightly lost feeling permeating his chest and he wonders briefly if maybe this was the wrong decision. He slips his coat over his shoulders and readjusts his bag, making his way out to his car and towards his home.


	4. Chapter 4

It was a surprise to find himself in the company of those deemed criminally insane. Lecter had alluded to the fact, but he was honestly taken aback by their work being done in a psychiatric hospital for the criminally insane. Lecter worked alongside a man named Dr. Frederick Chilton. He was a nice man. He used unorthodox treatment styles, but still, a very nice man. He allowed Lecter to run his little study within the confines of his hospital without much complaint. Maybe there was a little, but that was simply because Chilton was very sure with how he wanted things run, and Lecter was a little… different.

Will merely assisted with profiling criminals, considering that that was where his experience lied. He was fairly good at his job, he thought. Perhaps too good. Because by the end of the day, he felt overwhelmed, too connected to those who were in a much darker place than he had imagined. His methods were different from others who did the same work. He would place himself in their position and could usually very quickly understand exactly who they were and their motivations. It was tiring. It made his head ache and his mind feel foggy and spent, but he could keep up the pace to finish the study. 

Though, Will must have shown promise, because Dr. Lecter was eyeing him thoughtfully during their little visit to the hospital. So much so that Will begins to feel a bit uneasy. It isn’t long before Will has to speak up about this fact, considering that Lecter isn’t attempting to hide his stares, nor does he seem to care that Will is visibly nervous about the attention.

“Is something wrong?” he asks, turning towards the doctor. Dr. Lecter gives him an easy smile, as if he hadn’t just been staring at him for approximately twenty minutes.

“I had no idea that you were an empath, Mr. Graham,” he says. Will pauses and blinks at him, clearly taken aback by the sudden statement.

“An empath?” he repeats. Lecter nods.

“Indeed,” he agrees. “You put yourself into the shoes of these murderers. These killers. You lose yourself in them, only to pull yourself back and look at your work. It’s fascinating.” Will shifts his weight, a bit uncomfortably. He’s never been called an empath before, let alone been praised for the way he profiles. He feels heat creep into his cheeks, just enough to darken his skin a shade.

“It’s nothing really,” he mumbles and Lecter chuckles, sets a hand upon his shoulder. It makes him tense just slightly, uneasily, but at the same time, he likes the contact.

“You truly are one of a kind, Mr. Graham,” the doctor says.

“Will,” he corrects. Lecter raises an eyebrow at him. “Call me Will. You don’t have to use formalities.”

“Ah. Will it is then,” the doctor says. “And you may call me Hannibal.”

“Hannibal,” Will repeats, as if tasting the feeling of his name on his tongue.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> so next chapter will switch to hanni's point of view and probably pick up the pace  
> romance coming soon i promise  
> i have ideas ok

It happens rather quickly. Between class and helping with the study, Will finds himself overwhelmed. His brain works on overdrive. Lack of sleep mixed with the mental stress of using his empathy leaves him foggy and unable to focus. He fidgets in class, finds himself checking the clock every few seconds, forgets his things at his dorm room. It’s too much and not enough and really, he should be more careful, but without any sort of guidance, he finds himself straying down the wrong path.  
Nightmares and sleep walking and suddenly he’s dissociating, too, and he doesn’t know exactly what to do. So, who’s the nearest person with a psychology degree _and_ a psychiatric practice. Dr. Hannibal Lecter. He hates the fact that he has to ask for help like this. He wants to continue the study, but with his mental state deteriorating fast, he needs help and not just any kind of help.

Hannibal’s office is still lit up by the desktop lamp that sits upon it when he makes it there. He raps on the door a few times before pushing it open and announcing his presence with a soft wave. Hannibal gives him a warm, welcoming smile, setting down papers that he was presumably grading and Will takes a seat in one of the chairs across from his desk. Worry is seated deep in his gut and he hopes to god that he doesn’t sound weak when he starts talking.

“I’m going to cut to the chase,” he says with a voice that shakes under its own weight. “I need help.” Hannibal’s face darkens with worry, his eyes meeting Will’s steadily. It was incredible how his gaze could simultaneously calm and unnerve him. He would never understand how that was possible.

“What sort of help, Will?” he asks. Will takes a breath and lets it out in a soft, shaky sigh and tries to calm his nerves. He feels weak for even asking, but there’s only so much that a man can take before he reaches his breaking point. And Will has almost reached his.

“Psychiatric,” he replies quietly. Hannibal seems to know why, for he gives him this look that screams that he knows the cause of his inquiry. Will looks at his hands to avoid looking at him in the eyes.

“And you want my help?” Hannibal asks. Will nods his answer, stealing a glance up through his eyelashes at Hannibal. He looks more accepting than anything and it quells some of the nervous nausea that found its way into his stomach.

“Alright,” Hannibal replies. “I have several openings in the next week if you require immediate assistance.” Will gives another shaky nod.

“I have classes until Friday, but I’m free any time before your class,” he replies, making sure to keep his voice even and steady. Hannibal smiles at him reassuringly and slides a little notebook over, a calendar, and jots his name down in a time slot.

“How does 2:00 PM sound?” he questions.

“Yeah,” Will says quickly.

“And Will?” Hannibal requests his attention. “You do not have to feel ashamed of needing help. College is a stressful time in a young person’s life and you are allowed to seek assistance when needed.” Will watches him for a long second before nodding, words failing him for the moment.

“I shall see you Friday then,” Hannibal says with finality. Will nods, mumbles a quick thank you, and scurries from his office.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hannibals point of view finally which was a challenge in and of itself  
> i might try to slip in little chapters of hannibals perspective throughout the chapters but dont count on too many  
> i honestly cannot write hannibal but well i tried

It’d been weeks since Will began therapy. Sessions were weekly and followed the progress of the study very closely. It intrigued Hannibal, really. How determined the young man was to help with the study even if it cost him his mental stability. As the weeks passed by, Will seemed more and more overwhelmed with his gift, as Hannibal had begun to call it. Dissociation wasn’t uncommon for the young man and after a few weeks, he’d begun to notice Will being unable to separate himself from the killers that they interviewed and profiled.

Though, he hadn’t intended this outcome early on, he realized that this could work to his advantage. Will Graham was impressionable. Easily manipulated. He knew that from the start, as soon as he met the young man. His certainty only grew with the progression of the study. Will tried to act as though he wasn’t impressionable, but Hannibal could easily see through the walls that he had carefully constructed.

He had been fearful at first that maybe Will could see into him, but he had decided against this hypothesis. If Will knew his true nature, he would have run long before this moment. But, would he? Will hadn’t shown the usual reaction to the crimes that most people would have. If anything, his responses were neutral. They seemed to grow more neutral with passing weeks. It intrigued Hannibal greatly. It could have simply been because of the nature of the job, but he had his doubts. 

Will had entered his office only moments ago and now stands with his hands in his pockets, ruminating over the various array of books that filled his book shelves. The brunette looks curious, worried, nervous as he locks eyes with Hannibal, who sits at his desk. He stands, straightening his clothing neatly and walks towards the younger man.

“I find it hard to keep myself together,” Will says after a moment of merely watching the doctor. Hannibal turns his lips down in a frown, furrowing his eyebrows together.

“In what way?” he questions for clarity. Will gives an easy shrug, a way of showing his confusion to his own emotions. Hannibal could feel his uncertainty radiating off of him as if it were tangible. He ran a hand through his messy hair and shook his head.

“I’m starting to lose track of who I am,” he admits, looking up towards the ceiling with a humorless chuckle. “It’s like I’m not myself anymore.” Hannibal lets the softest smirk quirk his lips for a moment before his expression slides back to the concerned expression he wore seconds earlier.

Will ran shaking hands through his hair once more and then scrubbed them across his face. Hannibal could see the dark circles beneath his eyes, the way his skin had paled. He looked sick. Lack of sleep could do that to a man. He wondered where the breaking point was. Which pressure points he had to press in order to see it.

“It’s all I can do to keep myself together anymore,” Will says and his voice sounds just as tired as he looks. His eyes meet Hannibal’s again and the softest of smiles pull at his lips. Hannibal’s frown deepens.

“The holidays are approaching quickly, Will. Do you have any family you can visit?” Hannibal questions suddenly. “A vacation would surely do you good.” Will looks at him for a long moment before shaking his head and sighing deeply.

“No, but I think the winter break will help,” he says with a shrug. 

Will leaves quickly after his appointment, leaving Hannibal to his thoughts. His notebook had found itself filled with notes on him, his condition. It was standard to take notes about his clients, but previously, they had not been so detailed. His decision hadn’t been made before this point, but sitting in his office, thumbing through his leather bound tablet, he figures his mind has been made up for him. This study was no longer about the patients that they saw. This study was now about Will Graham.


End file.
